


Stormy Weather

by Hotforacertainscot



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotforacertainscot/pseuds/Hotforacertainscot
Summary: post wedding weekend angst... told from Sam's POV - I think??





	1. Stormy Weather

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done this before - please offer your comments carefully but honestly.

Remarkable. It was the only word he could come up with to describe the weekend. “I can’t believe she went through with it,” he muttered into the silence. 

Legs stretched out, tie undone, whiskey swirling in his glass, Sam replayed the weekend’s events over and over in his head - hoping the confusion would give way to clarity. Instead, confusion became replaced with heartache, anger, impatience, and defeat. He really thought they would come out on top. Together. That’s what they had agreed upon from day one - “We’ll always have each other’s backs.” 

But what was this? It felt more like she had stabbed him in the back, not have his back. 

He tried to rationalize why he went. He tried to defend the criticisms that were sure to come about him not having a backbone, about being weak and holding out for something, someone that was never gonna be his. But he knew this wasn’t just about him. It never was.

From the moment they met, they were connected in a way he couldn’t quite grasp. The pull they had for each other was beyond their control. Like ocean waves building in force with the moon’s changing light. Even when only a sliver of the moonlight was cast upon the darkness, the pull was always there, crashing them into each other day after day. Sometimes gentle - a brush of fingertips - just to say I’m here, I’m with you. Other times their bodies collided like whitecaps on jagged rocks - salty ocean spraying everywhere as hungry lips feasted on one another and possessive hands ravaged each other until they were breathless. Sam’s heart thumped heavily in his chest as he recalled the last time they were together. Just three days ago. 

And now? Here he is. Swallowing the last of his drink, hoping the alcohol would quench his thirst. His thirst for her.

He set the empty tumbler down on the wooden table and fingered the wedding invitation, tracing the letters of her name, wishing he could smudge the other name printed so eloquently next to hers. Why did he go? Was this him having her back by showing up to the wedding? Supporting her? Being there as a friend for everyone to see? If he didn’t show up where would that leave her? Alone. To do this by herself. No, he would not stand for it. No. He had to be there. And so he had gone. For her. To her. And now she was gone.

The day had started as dark and stormy as his mood but eventually, the rain held off and the ceremonies of the day proceeded as planned. She looked radiant, of course. Everything about her was magnificent. Her ivory skin - just slightly sunkissed. Her lips full and pink. Her dress. What can I say? She walked down the aisle with the grace, beauty, and experience of a model walking the runway. 

For a moment, he wondered if that’s what this was for her. Did she put on her wedding dress with the same haste of a runway model, ready to show off for an audience? Or did she grieve for the loss of the chance to wear a different dress for a different wedding? Theirs.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” “She’s stunning.” “I can’t get over how gorgeous she is. That is one lucky groom!” These were the phrases exchanged among the folks gathered to witness this wedding. The words bounced off his stone face like BB’s ricocheting off a tin can. Each ping, a secret dent in his armor. Sam nodded in agreement with the conclusions of the audience but silently disagreed on one count. Her eyes. When he dared to look into her eyes, he saw it. The sapphire blue that burned so brightly, was dulled today. Clouded over like the skies above. He could see what no one else could. And he knew she was tormented. That gave him some solace at least.

But now, at half-past one in the morning, he could find no solace. Not even the whiskey helped. He retreated into his thoughts, relished in the memories of the two of them these past 6 years and tried - really tried to find hope in this seemingly hopeless situation.


	2. Frightened Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam leaves London and spends some quality alone time figuring out his next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a couple of months and I'm giving this story another go. Here comes chapter 2 - short but sweet. This writing thing is harder than some of you make it seem. I absolutely love reading Jamie and Claire fan fics and so many of you all are soooooo good at it! Well done is all I can say.
> 
> I love Frightened Rabbit. You might want to check out the two songs referenced in this chapter. Get Out is from Painting of a Panic Attack in 2016 https://open.spotify.com/track/4UjZKgbOBEwb6i6zHupD1B  
and My Backwards Walk is from The Midnight Organ Fight in 2007 https://open.spotify.com/track/0hekPOS16CEulczSGsm7Lz  
also here is the link to Beinn Alligin https://www.walkhighlands.co.uk/torridon/Beinnalligin.shtml

Ribbons of early morning light gently tugged the corners of his eyelids. Sam rolled over onto his back and stared up at the hotel ceiling trying to decide whether to go for a run or pack his things and go. As much as the idea of a good sweat and self-induced punishment that included more burpees than he cared to admit, appealed to him, he opted for the daybreak getaway. After a quick shower, he was at the airport gate, heading to Glasgow without as much as a second thought to the plans he had canceled. Plans he had made, to reconnect with friends in London, maybe even take in a show. He shot off a quick text of apologies, pulled the brim of his cap down, zipped up his jacket and tucked in his seat for the short flight. 

By late morning, Sam found himself hugging the curves of the Highlands with his motorcycle. Get Out by Frightened Rabbit blared on BlueTooth in his helmet and he smirked realizing how appropriate this song was. Though he was a careful driver, he urged the motorcycle on as he tried to exorcize Cait from his head and heart with each rotation of the wheels and each note of the song.

Four hours later, he parked and began his hike up Beinn Alligin. Long strides and practiced determination carried him up the mountain faster than most. Once Sam summitted he knew the view would allow him the opportunity to appreciate the countryside and just enjoy his homeland. Here he found peace and perspective. Here he could whisper the words he longed to say, knowing the wind would carry them away.

Undisturbed, but content to be alone, Sam ate his packed lunch and sipped a bit of whiskey. Laying on his tartan, he threw his hands behind his head and searched the late afternoon skies for something, anything, that approached a viable response to yesterday's events.

In contrast to the grey skies of London, Scotland's skies did not disappoint. Blue skies and white clouds hovered above him. Ambiguous white shapes only his eyes recognized. A visual memory he could never forget - long and curvy, Cait's body came to mind. Laying next to him, long legs tangled with his. His hands traveling up and over her hip, dipping down beneath her breast and up again where he found her heart beating in time with his own. Smooth white skin on white sheets, contrasted only by her ebony hair and crystal clear eyes smiling at him. They lay like that for hours - taking in every molecule of the other: sight, sound, taste, touch. Nuzzling her neck he committed her scent to memory. 

He cupped her face and stared into her eyes. Blue on blue, they continued their silent conversation. Until at last, she interrupted their secret dialogue with the words he knew would eventually come. 

“I should go." Silence. "We have to be on set early tomorrow, and I need to -”

“Don’t. Stay.” A command. A plea.

“Sam. I can’t. I won’t - jeopardize what we’ve got going with the show. My reputation and yours - if everyone sees us arrive on set together... me wearing the walk of shame morning outfit...” 

Walk of shame? Furrowed brows silently asked.

“Err - sorry - that didn’t come out right. I’m not ashamed of this. Of us. But I am - worried. And determined to maintain professionalism.”

“Aye. You are. Very. Professional.” Sam said as he nibbled on her ear and worked his way down her long neck. He traced the goosebumps he awakened on her collarbone and caught her giggle with his mouth. 

“Sam!” She quirked in between kisses. “You are NOT hearing me.”

“Oh no? Let’s see if I can't make you say something louder.” He rolled on top of her and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, fighting with herself to push him off - so she could go - or pull him closer - so she could - 

“Oh, Gaaahhd Sam,” Cait whispered as he easily slid into her. 

“I can hear you now Cait.”

He also heard voices. Not hers. Not his. But dozens, it seemed.  
Suddenly he realized he had dozed off while staring into the Caitriona-cloud-filled-sky only to be awakened by a tourist group visiting the Munroes of the Scottish Highlands.

“Oh. Sorry to disturb you, sir.”  
“We didn’t mean to interrupt your wee nap”  
“Isn’t the view lovely?”

“Aye, Tis.” Sam smiled sheepishly. He folded his tartan, rolled his things into his backpack and made his way back to his bike. He drove home, chasing the last rays of sunlight. This time “My Backwards Walk” played in his ears and he smiled and sang along.

“I been working on my backwards walk  
There's nowhere else for me to go  
Except back to you just one last time  
Say yes before I change my mind”


End file.
